


Slow to Close

by caffeineandspite01, Selcier



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eggsy Unwin is a Hopeless Idiot, Good times all around, Kingsman Valentine's Day Collaboration 2018, M/M, Mission Fic, Oh look, Pre-Slash, copious amounts of dancing, it's not a party without an explosion, someone got stabbed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeineandspite01/pseuds/caffeineandspite01, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selcier/pseuds/Selcier
Summary: Kingsman becomes aware of a possible attack on the new Prime Minister planned for the evening of a masquerade charity ball on Valentine’s Day. Conveniently, Harry Hart, Lamorak, and Lancelot find themselves with invitations. And even though they attend with the goal to thwart an assassination instead of the intention to dance the night away with a cherished sweetheart, Eggsy manages to accomplish both.





	Slow to Close

“Fuck me, Merlin, this is some serious shit.”

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow, his fingers never ceasing their flow across his tablet. “Aye, it is, Agent Lamorak.” He paused to thrust another, thicker folder onto the table under Eggsy’s nose. “And that’s a list of all the attendees. They’ve all been invited and it’s doubtful any of them are going to turn down a spot at the Minister’s charity gala to celebrate the Party’s efforts. Private prison reform is certainly a controversial issue, but no one wants to risk being seen as anti-progressive after so many of the old guard lost their heads”

 

Eggsy swallowed as he flicked his way through the file. “You got this on the server too, yeah bruv? There’s no way I’m memorizing all this in time.”

 

“Well you’re going to have to if you’ll want to fit in. Your cover will be blown if you can’t look the part of an up-and-coming MP hopeful.”

 

Eggsy exhaled heavily as he surveyed the portraits of Kingsmen past that lined the dining room. It was odd, Eggsy thought, that it all looked completely the same even after he’d poisoned Arthur from this very seat and the world had gone completely to shit.

 

“Just put it on my glasses, yeah?” Eggsy mumbled, slouching into his seat. Harry would say that he was ruining the line of his suit.

 

Merlin snorted but seemed to concede as he didn’t argue the point anymore. “You’ll have back-up, of course. The other agents are afield so I’ve sent them a digital dossier.” He paused to stare at Eggsy over the rims of his glasses. “But they’ve all had years to master their covers. Years to figure out what makes them tick. This will be the first time you’re settling into your new skin.”

 

“I did alright with Mr. King, didn’t I?” Eggsy said, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest. “Played that bird full on. She never had a clue I was just some chav from the estate.”

 

“That you did, Eggsy. And I hope to see the same performance from you again. Only this time Mr. Wilcox will be someone you are familiar with intimately.”

 

Eggsy blanched at that, the double meaning a sickening thought. “Fuck, Merlin, that is rank. How come I gotta do all this reading, anyway? Harry gets to go as himself!”

 

Merlin chuckled, shooing Eggsy away with a hand. “Because Harry can use his family connections to get us all invited. Now off with you, lad. Get familiar with your new cover. You’ll have to have a backstory ready in two days that wins a fucking Oscar.”

 

It was tradition, to a point, that new mission briefings took place in the Dining Room above the shop. And even the new Arthur, with his slim ties and penchant for acai smoothies, remained chained to the status quo. So after Merlin’s dismissal Eggsy took the shuttle back to the estate, settled in at a table in the library, and read his files until his eyes burned. By then the sky had melted into a burning pink and Roxy was texting him for drinks.

 

They met up at the local close to her flat and settled in at a high table where the barman wouldn’t be hovering close enough hear their conversation.

 

“Seriously Rox, can you believe it? A fucking masquerade ball. On Valentine’s Day.  What is this, _Phantom of the Opera_?”

 

Roxy flicked a peanut at him, hitting him square in the forehead without putting down her beer. “Quit being so melodramatic. After our last mission crawling through the sewers of Istanbul, I for one am looking forward to the opportunity to let my hair down. Besides,” she continued, smiling mischievously, “I see that Agent Galahad will be running point. I understand he looks divine in a tuxedo.”

 

“Shut it, Rox,” Eggsy snapped, blushing furiously. Roxy simply sipped her beer, looking smug. Suddenly, Eggsy bolted upright in his chair. “Fuck!”

 

“What? What is it?” Roxy asked, concerned.

 

“Well, it’s a black tie thing, innit? I just realized — I haven’t got a fucking clue how to tie a bowtie.”

 

“Does it matter? I’m sure Dagonet can help you beforehand. You’ll hardly need to re-tie in the middle of the event.”

 

Eggsy shifted, uncomfortable, on his seat. He fiddled with the peanut bowl and spun it around as Roxy watched him. “Yeah, well. It might be something Mr. Wilcox knows how to do, yeah?”

 

“Eggsy,” Roxy said in a way made her sound like she was scolding a small child, “You are not Mr. Wilcox. He is someone whom you use— borrow— for a time and then give back.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know that.”

 

Eggsy spent that night thinking about every ballroom dance that he’d ever learned, unable to sleep, before abandoning his bed for YouTube and how-to videos on how to tie a bowtie.

 

His first attempt the next morning didn’t go well. The afternoon of the ball, he caved and asked Dagonet for help. Staunchly, he refused to even consider going to Harry. But when the Kingsman taxi picked him up that night to take him to the posh hotel downtown for the gala, he looked the part of an up and coming politician at least. That, and like a right prat.

 

“In position, Merlin.”

 

“Copy that, Lamorak,” said Merlin, a steady voice in Eggsy’s ear. There was the sound of a faint click and Eggsy knew he was on an open channel with the other Knights around the room. “According to MI6, we have exactly twenty four minutes until the Prime Minister and escort arrive.”

 

“Right. Well then, may as well go get myself a drink. Try and blend in,” Eggsy said. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and swaggered into the ballroom. There was a brief struggle to keep his face looking bored and unaffected as he took in the splendor around him. Crystal chandeliers glittered high up in the cavernous ceiling above the highly polished wood of the ballroom floor. A large string ensemble was tucked into a corner of the dance floor, just out of reach of what seemed like hundreds of round tables laden with crisp white cloths and heavy silverware. He was tempted to simply stand there and stare for a while, trying to take it all in. But he was Gareth Wilcox this evening, an aspiring young politician who attended these sorts of parties all the time.

 

Eggsy started across the room to the bar, fighting the urge to adjust his clothing. The bowtie at his throat and stiff cummerbund at his waist were a reminder to keep his back straight and head up. His alias for the evening would be used this restrictive wardrobe, uncomfortable despite being made out of Kingsman’s signature bulletproof blend. The mask was the most difficult part of his costume to adjust to; a simple black and gold affair, it covered two-thirds of his face and pressed oddly into his brow and the bridge of his nose.

 

“ A martini, please,” Eggsy drawled lazily at the bartender, “Stirred for exactly ten seconds.” The man nodded approvingly and Eggsy settled back against the bar to survey the room. He took a sip of his drink and managed to pick out Roxy in the swirl of bright fabrics and glittering jewels. Even with her mask, a feathered monstrosity that cupped her cheeks and the cradle of her jaw, she stood out with the confident set of her shoulders and the beatific smile on her lips. She was playing a socialite that night; a younger woman attracted to power and money and unafraid to twine a politician through her fingers. She was talking to a taller man, his back turned towards Eggsy, with a simpering smile on her face. 

 

“She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?”

 

Eggsy inclined his head, pausing for a moment before turning to meet the speaker head on. He faltered for a second at finding Harry’s face so close to his own. Harry’s own mask was much shorter, really only a band of black and silver filigree around his eyes, doing nothing to obscure the absurdly sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. “Oi,” Eggsy said, startled, his accent slipping. He recovered after a beat and coughed slightly. “I beg your pardon, Mr. …” Eggsy trailed off, realising he didn’t know which name to use.

 

Merlin chuckled in his ear but otherwise stayed silent, letting Eggsy suffer. The twit.

 

“Harry Hart,” Harry said smoothly, all politeness and extended hand. Eggsy gripped it with more force than necessary, pompously pumping his hand up and down. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Harry continued.

 

“Gareth Wilcox,” Eggsy said as he dropped Harry’s hand, the other tightening minutely on his glass. 

 

Harry smiled a bit more than was strictly polite, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

 

Eggsy made an aborted movement to push up his Kingsman glasses before remembering his mask. Instead, he adjusted at the last moment to keep from looking like a right fool. It was ridiculous, the amount of money some people spent on something they’d only wear once . Eggsy vaguely wondered what a mask from Jeremy Scott’s Adidas collection would be like, and considered it might be worth buying as a keepsake.

 

“A pleasure, Mr. Wilcox,” Harry said, never losing his pleasant smile. Eggsy almost grinned at him like a pleb instead of a posh tosser.

 

“Twenty-two minutes and counting,” said Merlin in his ear. “Lancelot, your nine o’clock, facial recognition has picked up on the lady with the emerald brooch.”

 

“Of course, I understand,” Roxy said, still in conversation.

 

Harry and Eggsy watched Roxy smoothly disengage from her conversational partner and glide off across the room after the woman Merlin pointed out. They continued to make idle small talk by the bar, biding their time until Merlin found them targets of their own. Harry was an excellent conversational partner, steering them effortlessly through several subjects, but Eggsy would be hard-pressed to remember a single one of them. All his concentration was devoted toward maintaining a reasonable amount of personal space between Harry and himself, and not blatantly looking Harry up and down. _Rox was right_ , Eggsy thought, _Harry looks divine in a tux._ The Kingsman tailors had outdone themselves. A classic black tuxedo, it fit Harry like a second skin. The cut of the jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist; the pants made his legs look even longer.

 

“Do you know, this rather reminds of a similar gala I had to attend in 1987. Percival almost caused an international incident. Too many cooks in the kitchen, as it were. Don’t you agree?,” Harry said, interrupting Eggsy’s distracted fantasizing.

 

“Hmm, yes.” Eggsy said absentmindedly.

 

Over the comm, Percival himself, back at headquarters and helping Merlin with coordination, snorted and left a few unfavorable comments about Harry’s own record hanging in the air.

 

“Mr Wilcox, am I boring you?” Harry asked, amused, and cutting in over Percival’s tale. Merlin scolded them all in his gruff manner.

 

“No, no not at all,” Eggsy replied. Suddenly he was grateful for the stupid mask, hiding an undoubtedly spectacular blush.

 

“Gentlemen,” Merlin cut in over their earpieces, ever the shepherd to his wandering flock, “if you’re quite finished, it’s time to actually do your jobs. Our two remaining suspects have arrived. I have as yet been unable to determine the nature of the possible attack, only that security would have confiscated any obvious weapons.”

 

“Ah, it’s to be a mystery then.” Harry said, smiling down at Eggsy. It lit up his face, making his dark eyes sparkle and bringing out hidden dimples.

 

“I do love a challenge,” Eggsy said, momentarily forgetting his cover’s arrogant persona to grin back at Harry .

 

“After you,” Harry gestured, politely ignoring his slip and ever the gentleman. They meandered off in opposite directions of the ballroom to slowly hone in on their targets.

 

Eggsy strolled over to a group of distinguished-looking gentleman and reluctantly joined in the conversation, making idle chit chat while he decided how best to approach his suspect. Were it not for the memory of V-Day fresh in everyone’s minds, Kingsman would be sitting this mission out. They didn’t even have any concrete intelligence an attack was imminent; but with the country having come so close to disaster, even the possibility of an assassination had to be taken seriously. The three agents were under strict orders to carry out surveillance first, and act only if deemed absolutely necessary.

 

Several minutes later, Eggsy’s face hurt from fake smiling so much and he could feel the beginnings of a tension headache throb through his temples as he was forced to laugh through yet another crack about the “lower orders.” Spotting an opening in the conversational group surrounding his suspect, he made some noises about getting another drink and started off across the room. But before he could reach his destination, he spotted someone familiar out of the corner of his eye. Eggsy recognized her immediately; all legs and blonde hair tied up into soft ringlets. A princess. And while Gareth Wilcox might not regularly mix with royalty, this particular royal would certainly know him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Merlin,” he hissed under his breath.

 

“I assure you, Lamorak, that I would never endanger a mission for the possibility of a practical joke. I did warn you to study the guest list, did I not? Consider this a lesson in following directions” Merlin replied, smugly and utterly without mercy. Eggsy could hear Percival’s confused enquiry in the background but Eggsy had already tuned him out. He caught Roxy’s eye as he kept walking, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her left ear: _do you need a distraction?_ Subtly, Eggsy shook his head.  

 

The princess still had her back towards him, so when Eggsy edged into her view, ostensibly admiring a nearby painting, she didn’t immediately notice. Absorbed in conversation with who appeared to be a good acquaintance, she glanced at him momentarily before smiling back at her conversational partner and then looking back at him again. She stopped speaking, her eyes narrowed and her forehead creased, and Eggsy took it as an opportunity to move closer.

 

The princess’s friend noticed the lull and turned to face him. “Good evening,” the other woman said, a pinched look on her face. Trust the aristocracy to make a ‘hullo’ sound like you’ve stolen something from them.

 

“Good evening,” he said, though, because Gareth Wilcox would be a right wanker and not deterred by a bit of social ineptitude. He took two more smooth steps forward and nearly held out his hand before remembering something about how you’re not supposed to touch royalty, and tugged slightly at one cuff instead. He imagined he could almost feel Harry cringing at such an obvious tell.  “Gareth Wilcox, your highness. We met quite briefly last, ah, Valentine’s day in the mountains.”

 

When she didn’t immediately respond, Eggsy wondered if perhaps she didn’t recognize him after all. He could feel sweat start to prickle at the small of his back as he contemplated the enormity of his potential fuck up. She must have been incredibly busy after V-day; Eggsy could vaguely recall seeing her address the United Nations. Between the mask and the whirlwind chaos of the last year, maybe she simply didn’t remember. 

 

Then the Princess’s eyes widened under her ornate mask and her pink lips parted in surprise. “Oh!” she said, “It has been too long.”

 

Her friend took the warm exclamation as her cue to excuse herself and soon they were left alone in a relatively quiet corner of the ballroom, shielded slightly from scores of merry socialites and politicians. 

 

The Princess genteelly held out a hand and Eggsy, slightly at a loss over what Wilcox’s character might do, gave her a slight bow and a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “Princess Tilde,” he said and her face melted into a soft smile at the sound of his voice.

 

She gently squeezed his fingers in acknowledgement, and his returned the gesture.

 

“Mr. ….” she paused, her head cocked. “Wilcox, is it?”

 

Eggsy nodded and released her hand. “It is, your highness.”

 

“I had not thought to expect you at such an event, sir.” She smiled while she spoke, a bit of a cheeky tilt to her lips. “It was my understanding that men such as yourself were not so prolific in British society.” Her warm acceptance of him reminded him briefly of Harry. “Your manner of speaking has changed considerably from when we first met.” 

 

Eggsy resisted the urge to grin and instead dropped Wilcox’s posh accent for only a second. “Ain’t no one accusing me of being a bit dull, yeah?”

 

“No, I certainly cannot,” Tilde said, now grinning openly. “May I ask what brings you here?”

 

“Could say a bit of business,” Eggsy deferred, his upper-crust accent sliding back into place.

 

“Is it serious?” Tilde asked, concern flashing across her lovely face. 

 

“I’m taking the wait-and-see approach for the moment,” Eggsy said, quick to reassure her. “I simply couldn’t resist saying hello. I would hate for you to have the wrong impression,” he continued.

 

“Ah, of course I understand Mr Wilcox,” Tilde said, taking his hint and relaxing slightly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

Merlin huffed in his ear, “The dance-floor, lad. Your target, Mr. Bradley Huntsman, is now taking a spin with the youngest daughter of the Earl of Kimberley. And a right dancer he is at that.”

 

“Actually,” Eggsy said to Tilde, spotting his target waltzing serenely around the dance floor, “would you care to dance?”

 

“Certainly,” Tilde said, taking the arm Eggsy held out and allowing herself to be lead onto the dance floor.

 

When Harry first insisted Eggsy take ballroom dancing lessons, he resisted heavily. He’d saved the world just fine without them after all. Why the hell would a chav like him need to learn how to waltz? Besides, he had told Harry, it’s not like anyone would ever believe he belonged at some fancy ball anyway. _Nonsense_ , he remembered Harry insisting vividly, _How many times do I have to tell you, Eggsy, that being a gentleman has nothing to do with the circumstances of one’s birth?_ As usual, Harry had been right. Here he was, at a ball, about to waltz with a princess. His mum’d have a cow if she could see him. Too bad he’d never have a reason to tell her.

 

They’d dropped in towards the end of the song but the band didn’t take any time flowing from one set to the next. Eggsy lead, of course, but Tilde didn’t seem frustrated at his continued repetition of the basic step as he focused on trying to keep up with the music. She kept her eyes on his face and he forced himself to keep his gaze over her shoulder so he could steer them around the floor. He could almost hear Harry’s voice in the back of his mind counting along to the steps.

 

“Galahad,” Percival said over his ear bud, although Harry was attending as himself that night, “Your target is moving to make first contact.”

 

“MI6 reports ten minutes until the PM’s arrival. They’ll want to avoid the cameras outside and in the front hall. Lancelot, be prepared for a quick extraction if necessary.” Merlin added. 

 

Tilde tilted her head as they spun so Eggsy could keep an eye on Huntsman. “Should I be concerned, Mr. Wilcox? The last time we met… well I would not choose to do it again.”

 

“Nine minutes. Bors, how’s it coming on the roof?”

 

“In place, Merlin,” Bors said with a crackle in Eggsy’s ear. “Let’s get this over with. It's cold as balls up here.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Eggsy watched Huntsman’s dance partner giggle and rejoin her group of friends by the buffet table. But his target wasn’t without a partner for long, striding over to Roxy’s conversational partner and leading her out onto the floor. “Lamorak,” came Roxy’s voice in his ear, “you’re going to have to get closer. We can’t hear a thing Huntsman’s saying from across the floor.

 

“These events are normally quite quiet, your Highness,” Eggsy said to Tilde. “Unfortunately, you happened to involved with one that went…”

 

“A bit shit?” She continued for him. 

 

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Yeah, sounds right,” he said, his accent slipping again.

 

“Lamorak,” now it was Harry speaking in his ear. “You can’t do basics round the floor all night. You’re coming up on a corner. You’re going to have to practice a bit of floorcraft. If you can lead your partner through half a turn, you should be able to change direction early and catch up to Huntsman.”

 

“Right,” Eggsy said, swallowing.

 

“Just listen to the count of the music, Eggsy,” Harry said, slipping up and using his real name.

 

With Harry’s voice in his ear guiding him, Eggsy felt his shoulders relax. He could do this. Eggsy raised his arm, silently signaling for Tilde to spin leisurely underneath him. Eggsy lost sight of Harry as they switched direction, but he couldn’t stop a smile from breaking out across his face as he heard Harry’s warm, “Well done, Eggsy” in his ear.

 

“Seven minutes,” Percival informed them over the comms. “Lancelot, follow that activity outside. Building surveillance is picking up some sort of exchange but the quality’s too shit for me to get a better view. Vials, would be my best guess. Bors can’t investigate without giving away his position.” 

 

“Lamorak, report on Huntsman.” Merlin said, his voice as even as ever.

 

Eggsy and Tilde had caught up to Huntsman and could hear his loud, boisterous voice booming across the space between them. “Perhaps you would like to join me on the Riviera next month?” he asked. 

 

“I thought your family had lost the property after V-day,” his dance partner replied, skeptical.

 

“Not to worry your pretty little head, darling,” he reassured her, “I have it on good authority my fortunes are about to take a turn for the better. Why,” Huntsman paused, and Eggsy followed his line of sight to a man on their ‘suspicious persons’ list  nodding from across the room, “things are looking up even as we speak,” he finished.

 

“Did any of you catch that?” Eggsy muttered quietly. “Sounds like Huntsman's definitely in on whatever’s supposed happen. But this bloody waltz has us too far apart for me to hear much else.”

 

Tilde raised an  eyebrow at him, questioning his unrelated comment in the stream of their conversation, but otherwise let it go.

 

“I’ve scrambled the traffic signals leading into the venue. The Prime Minister’s convoy is stopped approximately five minutes away, but my distraction won’t hold them long. You need to get a move on.” Merlin interjected.

 

“Is everything alright?” Tilde asked.

 

“Totally fine,” Eggsy said, thinking frantically about how to get Huntsman alone and wring some answers out of him before the Prime Minister started moving again. He looked back over at Huntsman's associate to see the man watching him closely. “It seems that Mr. Huntsman and I may have an acquaintance in common, that’s all.”

 

“Lancelot, Lamorak needs an assist to leave the dancefloor. There’s a possibility one of conspirators has spotted him,” Merlin said.

 

“I’m still tracking the suspects who made the drop outside,” Roxy whispered over the comms. “They’re heading towards a service stairwell. I see the vials. There’s writing on the side. Merlin, can you make it out?” Eggsy smiled briefly, knowing Roxy would love the chance to use Merlin’s latest surveillance gadget.

 

“May I cut in?” Eggsy froze mid-step at the familiar voice. 

 

“But of course,” Tilde said, smiling warmly. She and Eggsy separated as she stepped toward Harry, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere by his side.  But instead of reaching for the princess, Harry reached forward and took hold of Eggsy’s right hand.

 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Harry inquired politely as Tilde stood there, arm still slightly extended as though she couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But she recovered quickly, a bright smile crossing her face. With an elegant sweep of her wrists, she motioned for Harry to step into Eggsy’s space and glided across the floor to the side.

 

“Excellent, thank you,” Harry said, perfectly polite and in a voice holding no sarcasm. He placed his right hand firmly just below Eggsy’s shoulder blade and drew him into frame. “How’s your foxtrot, Mr. Wilcox?”

 

Eggsy, for his part, had watched the whole exchange with his mouth hanging slightly open in a manner wholly unsuited to his genteel persona for the evening. At the touch of Harry’s hand on his back, Eggsy jolted back into himself. “I’m, ah, a bit rusty?” he said. A shortage of female partners during his lessons meant Eggsy had learned both leader and follower parts for all the standard dances. But it wasn’t as though he had much chance to practice.

 

“I’ll take care to be gentle with you then, shall I?” Harry said, amused, as Eggsy openly stared at him.

 

Eggsy couldn’t help but glance across the floor at Tilde for moral support. They caught each other's eyes before Harry swirled him away and she offered him a cheeky wink. He swore under his breath.

 

“Was that the infamous princess I kept hearing about last year?” Harry asked ignoring his lack of manners. “She’s quite lovely.” 

 

“Yeah — I mean, yes, she is,” Eggsy said. He was still just watching Harry’s face, Eggsy realized with embarrassment, and tried to look a little less besotted. “We sort of lost touch after, well, you know. For a second back there I thought she’d forgotten about me.”

 

“You’re hardly a forgettable sort of person,” Harry said. They only took a few steps before the band finished the slow introduction. Now, as the music began to pick up, Harry drew Eggsy closer into a proper ballroom hold: chests leaning away from each other, hip to hip, one of Harry’s legs between Eggsy’s own.

 

Eggsy wondered idly if he was having some sort of stroke. He knew he should be doing something, like paying attention to the mission details Harry way laying out as they moved: something about Rox dealing with the blokes sneaking through the building while they dealt with whatever was planned in the ballroom. But all he could focus on were Harry’s big — so big what the _fuck_ Harry— hands on him.  Everywhere Harry touched him felt unreasonably warm, body heat seeping in through layers of bulletproof fabric. “Are you paying attention?” Harry asked, sounding slightly annoyed. “I realize you would undoubtedly prefer the company of your princess but we do have a national disaster to avert.”

 

Eggsy’s eyes snapped back into focus on Harry’s. “You always have all of my attention, Harry,” Eggsy said, startled into honesty.

 

Of course, Merlin chose that exact moment to chime in, cutting off whatever Harry planned to say. “ETA is five minutes. The car is back on the move.”

 

“Lancelot,” Percival added, “Facial rec has come back on the suspects from outside. The one who made the drop is from PharmaCo. We have to assume the attack is chemical in nature, possibly a bomb. The stairwell they entered has access to the service level. One explosion next to a support pillar would severely affect the building.”

 

“Percival,” Harry asked, his lips far too close to Eggsy’s ear. “It seems unlikely that Lancelot’s target would endanger their partners in a full collapse of the building. They must be looking for a diversion tactic.”

 

“It’s doubtful the structure will be severely affected with a chemical explosion of that size. Those vials weren’t large enough for anything too damaging,” Percival agreed.

 

“People will be freaking the fuck out, yeah?” Eggsy said, forgetting his accent. “You could pop off any of these toffs if they’re all running to get out.”

 

“Excellent point, Lamorak,” said Merlin. “Lancelot, Bors, do you copy?” 

 

“Yes sir,” Bors confirmed. “Permission to scope the area. It is highly possible I’m not the only one with a bird’s eye view out here this evening.”

 

“Understood. I’ll keep a lookout for any nasty surprises they may have left behind.” Roxy added.

 

“Confirmed,” said Merlin as Percival started relaying the surrounding area into all their ears, listing secondary prime positions, wind force from various angles and clues through CCTV surveillance and cameras they had planted around the building.  

 

Eggsy found it difficult enough to keep his thoughts straight with Harry’s warm cologne all but seeping in through his skin. With Percival’s running commentary and the idea they now had the components of a bomb floating around in the building somewhere underneath him, Eggsy wasn’t watching his footwork. Which suspect might be carrying out the attack on the prime minister? Huntsman was clearly involved but his indiscretion on the dance floor seemed to rule out his being a major player. That still left two suspects, he and Harry were going to have to split up again... Eggsy was about to voice his concerns, adrenaline seeping through his veins as he readied himself for a fight,  when Harry chose that moment to lead a heel turn, of all things. The heels of his oxfords caught on the floor and he could feel himself start to fall.

 

“Steady on,” Harry said softly, tightening his hold and dragging Eggsy even closer in to his body. They were now pressed together from shoulder to hip, Harry’s arm around his back and hand clasped in his own. God, it was like Harry was everywhere, Eggsy had never been this close to him. Unthinkingly Eggsy pressed closer, heat flushing through him.

 

“Three minutes, gentlemen, Lancelot.” Merlin’s voice cut through the fog in Eggsy’s brain and he froze, immediately trying to pull away. Whether Harry simply didn’t realize Eggsy had his feet back under him or thought he was about to go running off half-cocked, Eggsy couldn’t tell, but Harry just pressed his arm more firmly against Eggsy’s back and held on. _Oh fuck_ , Eggsy thought, _fuck fuck fuck_ . Harry was so warm and bespoke trousers didn’t hide anything and _oh God_ if Harry didn’t let him go right-the-fuck now Eggsy was gonna have to make Roxy help him fake his own death and live out the rest of his days on some fuck-off tiny island because he was never gonna be able to look Harry in the eye again.

 

But just as Eggsy was trying to remember exactly which countries had no extradition treaties with the UK, Merlin cut in again over their earpieces. “Agents please be advised the Prime Minister has arrived, entering the building now,” at the same time there came a distinctly feminine gasp of pain.

 

“Code red,” came Roxy’s strained voice, “there was a third man, I couldn’t,” she coughed “I couldn’t keep him here.”

 

“Lancelot report on your condition, now,” Merlin barked. Eggsy straightened immediately, heart pounding.

 

“Flesh wound. Suspect has a knife. Beginning pursuit now.”

 

“Permission to assist?” Bors asked.

 

“No, Bors, continue with your objective. Lamorak was correct earlier, this could all be a ploy to flush everyone out into the open. Keep your eyes open for activity on the roof.”

 

“Understood,” Bors said, an edge in his voice.

 

“Look, ain’t no way I’m lettin’ her take on three hostiles with a stab wound, guv.” Eggsy snapped.

 

But the song came to a close with almost an abrupt finish as all the dancers paused and clapped. Their faces were flushed and red with exertion as Eggsy's own was pale with concern for his friend. But he only had a moment more to react as a hush fell over the crowd then as the Prime Minister appeared at the Ballroom entrance. He surveyed the room with a wide, practiced smile. “Good evening, all my dear friends and family,” he started. 

 

The room exploded with applause. He’d been popular as a candidate before V-day. And the fact that his head hadn't blown up with the rest secured his position quite nicely. 

 

Eggsy ignored the commotion, intent on Roxy.

 

“No, Lamorak, our priority must be the Prime Minister,” Merlin began.

 

But Eggsy turned to leave, already opening his mouth to ask Roxy her coordinates, and collided directly with Huntsman. He hadn’t realized, with all his sad simpering over Harry, that they’d still been dancing so closely.

 

“I beg your pardon,” Eggsy said using his most pompous tone.

 

Huntsman sneered, looking Eggsy up and down. “I should say so.”

 

“Mr Wilcox,” Harry began, coming up behind Eggsy and lightly placing a hand on his back.

 

But Eggsy ignored Harry, staying close enough to Huntsman that he was nearly overpowered by the man’s repulsive cologne. It was ridiculous, that he wasting time being polite when his best friend could very well be bleeding out . Dropping his accent, he spoke close to Huntsman’s ear with his lips curled up in annoyance. “This party is a bit shit, yeah bruv?”

 

The Prime Minister continued on with his speech, like the other attendees, unaware of the conversation in the middle of the floor.

 

“Lamorak,” Percival warned in his ear. “Don’t expose yourself until you can confirm he’s a real threat." 

 

Huntsman puffed his chest out, lip curling in disdain. “And you are?” His dancing partner, taking the chance when it presented himself, disappeared into the crowd of dancers with a flick of her gown.

 

“Lancelot, report,” Merlin snapped.

 

“Give me a moment,” Roxy said, her breath sharp in Eggsy’s ear but her words muted. He was able to hear a brief shuffle, like the layers in Roxy’s dress sliding against one another, and a sharp cry of pain. “One suspect down, sir. Whereabouts of the others currently unknown.”

 

“Gareth Wilcox. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Eggsy said, baring his teeth in an imitation of a smile.

 

“Well, Mr. Wilcox “ Huntsman said, not meeting Eggsy’s eyes, “if you’ll excuse me I have some rather important business to attend to,” he continued, his tone haughty. But Huntsman’s face was flushed and he reached up to adjust the bowtie at his throat.

 

“In the middle of a party?,” Eggsy asked, feeling something savage in him flush with pleasure at the way Huntsman swallowed and leaned further away from him. Huntsman’s dismissive tone grated on his nerves: “You must be against the Prime Minister’s new proposal then, to be leaving so soon. I would question then, sir, the reason for your attendance tonight.”

 

Huntsman’s face reddened under his mask. “I say!”

 

“I’ll tell you what,” Eggsy continued, “I have a proposition-”

 

As Eggsy spoke, an ominous rumble shook the floor of the ballroom. Eggsy whipped around to meet Harry’s eyes. “What was that?”

 

“Lancelot, get out of there!” Merlin barked. “Lamorak, quit dithering about. Secure the targets and get going. The situation has escalated.”

 

Eggsy turned back around, intent on getting Huntsman alone even if he had to drag him out of the ballroom by the ear. He’d only taken a step when the floor rumbled again, and then an entire corner of the ballroom disappeared in a roar of light and sound.

 

“Get down!” Harry shouted, flinging himself forward to cover Eggsy’s body with his own, shielding him.

 

Plaster from elaborate mouldings and columns shook and rattled. Almost instantly after the reverberating bang, the world fell silent around Eggsy in aftermath of the deafening blast. He opened his mouth to yell, to check in with Harry, but his words ended up lodged in his throat as he inhaled to speak. Clouds of sediment and ash coated his lungs and mouth, making him choke and cough in an attempt to clear his airways.

 

He could see women in high, thin heels topple over in their grand gowns while men tripped over their own legs in an attempt to right themselves. A few people laid on the floor, disrupted by the blast as much as the two agents had been. The burning smell of explosives blanketed the room and burned his nostrils with hot acidity.

 

After a few seconds that felt like eons, the shaking settled. The sounds around the room started to come back to him. They were murky at first, muted and dull; but sharpened with each new breath.

 

Eggsy briefly savored the feeling of Harry’s sturdy weight above him, taking a second to check if Harry was unharmed, before rolling out away and springing to his feet; Harry following a beat later. “Roxy?” Eggsy yelled frantically, straining to hear over the ringing in his ears.

 

“Lancelot!” Merlin nearly shouted over the earpieces.

 

“I’m alright.” Roxy said, and Eggsy almost collapsed in relief. “Requesting extraction at the south entrance.” She sounded tired but stable. She was never one to downplay any situation when a mission was at stake. 

 

“Copy that,” Percival said. “Sending back up now.”

 

“Galahad, Lamorak, secure the threat before this country descends into chaos,” Merlin ordered, his tone scratchy, but even.

 

The two set about combing the ballroom, guns out, all pretense abandoned as they pushed through the mass of screaming and sobbing patrons headed for the doors. “Visibility is complete shit,” Eggsy said, “Bors, better keep a lookout.”

 

“Patrons are starting to evacuate the building. Law enforcement is on its way but it will be four minutes until SWAT arrives,” Merlin added.

 

“Copy that, Headquarters,” Bors said. His voice was muffled from the butt of his weapon up against his shoulder.

 

Dust sifted from the ceiling and rose up in great clouds from the floor, lit up oddly under emergency lighting. Harry and Eggsy stuck close to the wall as they moved around the perimeter of the room, trying to avoid the panicked crowd. He could make out the blurry shapes of men and women in gray coated clothing, hunched over and coughing, as they blundered around in the dim. For all the chaos, they moved quickly, desperate in their attempt to flee the building. It wasn’t long before the room was mostly cleared and the sounds of fear were coming from outside. Dust fell into his eyes from where it coated the ornamentation on his mask. It stuck to the sweat of his face, distracting. 

 

Bor’s radio crackled as his weapon discharged with a muffled thud. “Enemy sniper eliminated. He was distracted by the explosion and tipped his head. Body is on the fourth floor of the hotel across from the front entrance.”

 

“Confirmed. Sending clean-up now,” Percival said. “And good work, Bors.”

 

Eggsy passed by an alcove choked with dust, sensing a lurching movement off to one side. He started to raise his pistol when something heavy smashed into the side of his head, sending him crumpling to the floor. Something wet slid down the side of his face and stars danced across his vision as he raised an arm to try and defend himself from future blows.

 

He barely had time to notice the light footfalls of a pair of Oxfords on the dusty ballroom floor before Harry loomed forward out of the gloom. “That was a mistake.” Harry’s elocution was sharp as glass. And whether it was Huntsman or his partner Eggsy couldn’t tell, but in the end it hardly mattered. Harry dispatched him with brutal efficiency, shooting him in the neck with a dart, and securing the suspect’s wrists with a pair of flex cuffs stashed in his jacket pocket. It wasn’t Huntsman’s face pressed against the floor with his mouth hanging open. Somebody else then. How many _fucking were there_?

 

“Spotted Huntsman and one additional accomplice, maybe Nicholae, in the side alley. They appear to be exchanging a weapon. Possibly a backup plan. Permission to fire?” Bors’ voice crackled to life over the comms.

 

“Granted.” Merlin said. “Let’s wrap this up and get you all to medical. My contact at MI6 has confirmed the Prime Minister is secure. Well done.”

 

After two more sharp thuds, Bors’ radio crackled again. “Targets eliminated.” Bors confirmed a beat later.

 

“And amen to that,” Percival added. “Cleanup dispatched. Now get the hell out of there before MI6 does a sweep." 

 

Eggsy sat up and yanked off his mask, sick of having the stupid thing digging into his face. “Thanks for that, Harry.” His own suit was covered with dust and plaster chips but it still stuck to his back with sweat. He tugged at his collar and bowtie.

 

“Not at all, dear boy,” Harry said, helping Eggsy to his feet with a hand on his elbow. Harry removed his own mask and then, as Eggsy watched, removed his earpiece. Somehow he looked composed even though his tux looked like he’d rolled in the street instead of danced at a ball for the last few hours. “Did you mean what you said, earlier, when we were dancing?”

 

Eggsy, surprised at the change in topic, removed his own earpiece before answering. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that, Harry.” 

 

Watching him intently, Harry said “When you said I always have all of your attention.”

 

Eggsy stiffened slightly, wondering if Harry was about to tell him off and took out his own earpiece to spare himself the embarrassment. But fuck it, they could have died. They could die at any point, anywhere. And probably in worse placsd than a posh ball in dusty tuxedos.  So Eggsy took a deep breath and looked Harry dead in the eye. “Every word.” 

 

“Well,” Harry said, looking down at Eggsy. Particles of dislodged debris floated around his head like a strange halo in the emergency lighting. “We have approximately five minutes before Bors comes looking to drag us both off to Medical. Would you care to dance?”

 

Eggsy grinned, the grime on his face making his skin tight and itchy and like he still had his mask on. “Yes, Harry.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a spin-off of a quote from Miss Fisher's Murders, when Jack suggests their partnership is something of a waltz and Phryne reminds him that a "good waltz is slow and close."


End file.
